Don't Say The Word
by Perfecto
Summary: Elizabeth Wright, Matthew Brown's all too eccentric roommate, is out for revenge on her friend's behalf. After he'd been taken into custody, the psychiatric student's target has become the man who had lead the orderly to his demise; Hannibal Lecter. And nearly, Will Graham.


_**Author's Note:**_

_**Before you begin reading the preface, I'd like to thank all of you who've decided to take a look into this Hannibal fanfic, which is, also, my first story ever. 3 I've always been too shy to start a story of my own because English is not my first language and I've wanted to wait a little longer, until my vocabulary spreads wide enough for me to be able to write something in this wonderful language.**_

_**Now, I warn you, this is just the preface to the story and it took place after Kaiseki. The reason I wanted to make a character a close friend of Matthew Brown is because I adore his character and he's actually one of my favorites. BUT it's you, my readers and reviewers, who decide whether or not this story seems to take an interesting turn, which means that if you guys like it, I shall continue and write more. 3 :)**_

_**As for pairings, I'm not really sure. I'll leave Will for now, but you could certainly send me suggestions whom you think is most suitable for Elizabeth! I don't bite and I'm most certainly open for new ideas and suggestions!**_

_**Without further blabbering on my side, enjoy this (kind of) lovely preface!**_

_**Don't forget to R&amp;R. ;3**_

* * *

**Don't Say The Word**

_**Preface: Realization  
**_

"_I still don't understand this whole appeal with Will Graham. Why are you even doing this?" Elizabeth asked furiously, standing with crossed arms as she pierced imaginary daggers through her mate's back. Matthew Brown, chose to ignore her, instead._

"_I won't be back 'till late at night. Don't wait up and, more importantly, don't try to make dinner for us. Your cooking skills are... poisonous." He told her for the (most probably) hundredth time since the day he'd met her._

_Her eyes widened in disbelief and anger at his insolence. "What did you say about my cooking skills?! – Matthew!"_

_And without another word, he slammed the door shut before she couldn't even start an argument about it._

It was from the moment she woke up that Elizabeth knew something was off. The fact that she woke up one hour behind her usual schedule was already an indication to it, as her roommate Matthew would have never let her oversleep. Sitting up, she looked around the room, registering the quiet environment.

_'Too quiet.'_ She thought as her gaze fixed itself on the white sheets, blinking furiously in contemplation. Uncovering her petite form, she moved towards the kitchen, pacing dramatically loud and fast.

"Matthew, why haven't you woken me up, it's...– " She shut her mouth almost immediately, though, as the realization of her roommate's absence struck her like thunder.

"Matthew...?" Panic rose sharp, shaking her being and tearing at her as she rushed to his room, seeing everything just as he had left it last afternoon. His room was perfectly clean with baby blue painted walls (they'd been white before – God knows, he was probably sick of the dull-colored walls in the Baltimore State Hospital), his washed nurse uniform folded on top of a few shirts he had yet to place in his closet. She heard no noise coming from the bathroom, but she went on to check in it anyway, but no clue had been left of him even being there.

"_Phone, phone, phone..._" Elizabeth repeated continuously as she walked back to her own room, the idea of checking up on Matthew occupying her mind so much, she barely noticed that she ended up making a mess, scattering her belongings and tinier furniture on the floor, only to leave for the living room (which was connected with the kitchen – it was honestly a wonder they were able to find such a spacious apartment to rent for an available price, but the old lady who owned the building had been generous enough at the time to allow two medical students to reside within the apartment for a lower price), creating even more of a chaos. Until she realized, poor thing, her iPhone stood on the tiny, short-legged glass table _all this time_.

The brunette pressed her lips into a thin line, as she stared at the cellphone with malicious intent.

"Bet you think you're hilarious, you little devil." She spoke to it, not caring how silly it sounded blaming everything on an inanimate object.

"Can't wait to replace you for a newer version." Muttering, she picked the white-gold device up, dialing her dark-haired friend's number and waiting patiently, until..

_'__We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you...__ – '_ Pursing her lips in fury, she stared straight ahead of her, thinking about the reasons as to _**why in the world**_ had Matthew suddenly decided to keep his phone off.

"If I find out you did it to avoid me making breakfast for once, I will rip your head off." She threatened over the phone, the insert message repeating itself once more as she did so.

Carelessly, throwing her phone back onto the glassed table, she plopped down on the couch, deciding upon waiting for Brown's arrival, rather than going to school for the day. The brunette knew skipping class was no good, as one missed day resulted in a heavy load of information and details to catch up with, especially since she was in her senior year of psychiatric studies. Another school year and she'd be officially a psychiatrist.

She wasn't as thrilled about it as she'd thought she would be ten years ago, when she started off as a sophomore in college and daydreamed about her future career. Instead, she imagined it'd be a pain in the ass, especially if she went for psychiatry in private practice. Hearing people complain about their trivial problems, when there were individuals who were in a mental condition far worse than they were, seemed rather boring and irritating the more she thought about it.

Maybe it was just the influence Matthew Brown had on her in the last decade; at one step from her thirties', she certainly felt like a changed woman. Not only that, but she felt like her close interaction with such a peculiar character as his, had left a mark on her soul as well, passing his views and moral theories on to her consciously unaware being.

Staring at the ceiling and trying to ease her mind while revising the anatomy of the human brain under closed eyelids, picturing a plastic model of the brain in front of her eyes (while not remembering every detail of its mental picture), she lost track of time rather easily and it felt like hours, until the sound of an incoming call washed away the already blurry EEG brain scan illustration.

_'Finally. What took him so long?' _Elizabeth exhaled sharply, as she opened her eyes and stretched her hand out to grab her hand. To her surprise, the caller ID registered a far different number than his. Furrowing her brows in confusion, she answered the call cautiously.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"_Hello, did I get Miss Elizabeth Wright?" _An unknown man's voice replied on the other side of the line.

"Yes." She responded curtly, her gut feeling telling her there was something fishy about the whole start of the conversation.

"_This is FBI agent Jack Crawford speaking."_

_**Shit.**_

"_You're the flat mate of a certain Mr. Matthew Brown, correct?"_

"As a matter of fact, I am. Why are you asking? Has something happened to Matthew? He hasn't come home yet and I've been so worried. – Is he hurt, agent?" Her voice cracked on purpose as she played dumb, trying to convince the authoritative man over the phone of her unawareness about her friend's violent nature. Although she was playing a dangerous game, deep within she was really worried about Matthew's whereabouts.

"_Well..." _He started, _"I wouldn't say he's doing all that well. He's been kept under custody since last night."_

"What...?" Her act dropped for a second as she tried to register what the man had said.

"_Mr. Brown had attempted to murder a man by the name of Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Miss Wright, were you aware of or had any suspicions your flat mate might be a murderer?"_

"Oh, God, no! He... H-he's the most decent and kindhearted man I've ever met. I can't believe he'd do such horrible things!"

_**Yeah, right.**_

"There must be an explanation to it, agent. Matthew couldn't possibly have done that...!" Despite her trying her best to act as if she were truly crying her eyes out at the astonishingly 'painful' news, she honestly felt like snorting and laughing at her own words. Matthew was by a long shot no innocent little sheep, he wasn't above killing the people he wished to get rid off. She would know; she used to clean up his messes back in his college days.

"_I am sorry, Miss Wright. I truly am. Unfortunately, he was caught red-handed. He tried to kill an innocent man." _He sounded sympathetic; it was her chance to act.

"Would you mind telling me the address where you're holding him? I'd like to at least bring him a change of clothes, if that's allowed."

"_Most certainly."_ She was fast at tearing a piece of paper from a notebook of hers and wrote down the information agent Crawford had so _generously_ decided to share with the poor, bewildered woman he had spoken to. And it wasn't long till she packed some of Matthew's stuff and left for the police station.

"_Oh, don't give me that look. We saw it coming sooner or later." _

From the moment Matthew heard the extremely loud footsteps approaching his cell and was greeted by Elizabeth's graciously furious expression (with her oh-so-ugly bad habit of pursing her lips and flaring her nostrils like some wild animal), he concluded she certainly looked pissed. It hadn't fazed him at all, though. Instead, he tried to lighten the mood and feed his own entertainment.

"Of course, I imagined it differently. The two of us growing old together and rotting in the same cell." His smug smirk plastered on his face in a playful manner, as if he wasn't attempting to murder anyone less than twenty-four hours ago.

"Matthew... If there weren't bars separating our bodies from intimate contact, I would strangle you to death." She said in a dangerous warning tone, her index finger lifted to add to the pressuring atmosphere.

"It's not very wise to threaten a man at a police station, Elizabeth. Someone might hear you. Why so upset anyway? I'll get out, eventually." The dark-haired male shrugged carelessly.

"Yes, I am _very_ upset indeed. We are like a family, Matthew. We've stuck together and I've cleaned up your messes for so long and now, this _**fucker**_ shows up and tears down everything we've worked for so hard." She whispered, her olive eyes sparkling dangerously as walked closer to him. "I'll make him pay for what he has done to us. The moment I'll get a grasp of him, I'll torture and kill him in the most painful imaginable way."

As the sound of approaching footsteps of the guards echoed through the hall, the Blacknose killer smirked knowingly at his accomplice, replying loud enough for everyone to hear. "Thank you for bringing me a change of clothes. So considerate of you."

"High marks, well-esteemed seminars and praised from most if not all doctors teaching in the psychiatric specialization course. Everything seems good, almost too good..." The short man known as Dr. Frederick Chilton contemplated out loud as he read through her file. Lifting his eyes, he glanced over at the twenty-nine-year-old student.

"Miss Wright, have you ever cheated in a test? Stolen a few seminars from other psychiatric researchers and mixed it up in a perfect, sixty pages work which you've claimed to be your own?"

Elizabeth stared in disbelief at his accusatory question, answering him using a rather annoyed tone. "No."

Dr. Chilton raised his eyebrows and his glance shifted back on his desk, letting out a short, verbal nod, which leaked with sarcasm. "_No_... Well, what made you come to decision to seek out apprenticeship here?"

"Well..." The brunette paused for a moment, trying to use her words as carefully as possible. "In all honesty, they had suggested a certain Dr. Hannibal Lecter to me."

"Ah, yes. _Dr. Lecter._" The older man repeated bitterly, staring at the right corner of his office, acting as if the mention of him didn't bother him, the sarcasm in his tone increasing as he dragged on. "He's quite the _popular_ one among psychiatric circles."

"Rumor says he recently failed in rehabilitating one of his patients, so I've had my suspicions about him. Instead, I've chosen to contact the most hated psychiatrist in the whole state; you." She said plainly, the hint of a smile present on her face. It was needless to say that Dr. Chilton (if only figuratively) was hit by the giant bomb called 'Bad Reputation' in a matter of seconds.

"Now, where did you hear that nonsense from?" He asked, obviously trying to conceal the truth with a forced smile.

"I think it's obvious, though. Whereas others are teaching at college or dedicated themselves to private practices, you've become the head of a rehabilitation department for the criminally insane. Such achievements bring a lot of jealousy and hate from your so-called colleagues."

With a frown of consideration fixed on his features, he tapped his polished, wooden cane, before straightening himself once he came to a conclusion. "Miss Wright, welcome to the Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane."


End file.
